


I Love You

by The_Problematic_Blender



Series: "This is going to Hell in a hand basket real fast!" [11]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Angst, Character Death, Death, Declarations Of Love, Fake AH Crew, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-21 22:10:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6059908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Problematic_Blender/pseuds/The_Problematic_Blender
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trevor loves Jeremy, and says it everyday.</p><p>Jeremy loves Trevor, and only says it once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Love You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CampCounselorDavid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampCounselorDavid/gifts).



Jeremy never said I love you to Trevor.

It didn't bother Trevor, and he knew Jeremy was afraid of attachment because of things that happened in the past, and that was okay, Trevor was proud that Jeremy had the courage to be with him. He knew Jeremy loved him, even if he never said it, and that was okay too, because Trevor loved Jeremy too.

Sometimes Trevor would tease Jeremy about it, calling him a heartless monster in a relationship and Jeremy would roll his eyes and playfully hit him, saying that Trevor had too much love for the both of them to make up for it. And he was probably right, Trevor was always a ray of sunshine, no matter the circumstances. He was over affectionate to his boyfriend, and Jeremy didn't mind being Trevor's center of attention. Just because Jeremy was afraid to say I love you didn't mean that Trevor was.

Trevor proclaimed his love at least three times a day. In the early morning drawl, in the late night quiet, in the busy in-between of the day when they crossed paths, in texts at three am when one of them was away from the city. He did it so often, to some people, it would seem that he just threw the word around willy nilly and didn't mean it.

But Trevor meant every single one of them, and Jeremy knew that.

They were best friends for over five years, and in a relationship for nearly a year, the days until their anniversary in the single digits, and Trevor never let up on his proclamations. Jeremy teased him about it while they walked to a fast food place.

“You sound like a broken record, with how many times you say it.”

“But baby, I love you, you're my rock and roll.” Trevor replied in a horrible 50s accent, making Jeremy laugh. 

“Yeah, well, you don't need to convince me.” Jeremy said.

“I'm not convincing you, I'm reminding you, just in case you forgot.”

“I don't think I could forget someone as annoying as you are.” Jeremy earned a hurt look and a weak shove from Trevor, and a smile broke his façade. “Okay okay, persistent.”

“Maybe you don't deserve my love.” Trevor said with an exaggerated sad voice. Jeremy rolled his eyes as the two went into the fast food place. “By the way, I love you.”

“You always do.” They ordered their food and sat down at a plastic table near the window, Trevor immediately throwing a fry at Jeremy. “Why did you do that?”

“Because I love you.” Trevor replies, and Jeremy throws the fry back.

“Didn't your mom teach you not to play with your food?”

“My mom was a prostitute, she put things in her mouth that aren't food and you think she would've taught me decent table manners?” Trevor flings the fry around before eating it, and Jeremy let's out a chuckle. Getting food was such a domestic and mundane thing compared to their normal lifestyle of crime, that it seemed better than anything else they could of done, eating food they got for thirty dollars and laughing about some story that they still managed to not have heard after five years of living together.

Jeremy stood up to take the trays after their meal.

The window exploded beside them, glass shattering.

And Jeremy was shot by the bullet that broke through the window.

Trevor screamed Jeremy's name, ducking under the table before hearing another bullet come through the broken window, just barely missing him. There was a sniper across the street, and Trevor didn't care at the moment because Jeremy was shot in the chest and in pain on the floor. Trevor scrambled to his side and couldn't hold back tears as he did. “Please stay with me, Jeremy, please.” Trevor begged. “God dammit, please. I love you, and I can’t lose you.”

“Trevor…” Jeremy said weakly.

“Shut up and stay with me.” That would’ve sounded like a threat if Trevor's voice wasn't shaking and tears weren't making tracks on his face.

“Eight h-hundred and seventy four.” Jeremy forced out.

“What?” Trevor asks.

“You said it-t eight hundred an’ seventy four times.” It took Trevor a few seconds to figure out what Jeremy meant before it introduced itself and slapped him in the face.

“You counted how many times I said that I loved you?”

“Ye-ah.” Jeremy's breath was staggering and weak, and Trevor felt like sobbing his eyes out.

“Why?”

“Be-cause I wanted... to save mine for somet-time special.” Jeremy said, and Trevor could tell what unspoken words that followed. This wasn't supposed to be the time. The sirens almost drowned out what Jeremy said next, but Trevor heard it loud and clear. “I love you, my sun-shine.”

“I love you too," Trevor barely manages to say, tears flowing freely. "I love you so much.”


	2. So Much

It’s been three months since Jeremy died.

The crew found the gang that set up the attack (and then brutally murdered them and tortured the ringleader), but the sniper seemingly disappeared from the earth. The gang never had any info on them, never got a name or address, they didn’t even knew what they looked like. It was impossible, and the police did nothing since Jeremy was affiliated with the Fake AH Crew. Not even very serious threats from Ryan made them act (half of them he has made good on so far).

Trevor smiles everyday. He was never happy, god no, everyday was filled with pain and he wished for the sweet release of death. He just made sure to smile everyday. Jeremy always told Trevor how much he loved that he smiled so much, even when no one else would. So Trevor smiled. They were almost always forced, but it felt better than not smiling.

Trevor had negative thoughts often, but refused to act upon them. He had seen personally what happens when people succumb to those thoughts, and refused to do the same. He held his head high and coped his best, only letting his barriers break a few select times alone. He wished that he could be stronger, and that people would stop asking if he was okay. He just lost his boyfriend, of course he isn't okay.

The funeral was probably the hardest day of his life. He wanted to go, but he also wanted to stay far away from the place, to not be able to see the place on a map of the city. Eventually, he did go, with a heavy heart and a sick feeling in his stomach. The service was small, only containing the crew. Trevor adamantly refused to cry during the service, and didn't, his emotions bottled up until he could go somewhere private to break down again. No one spoke to him during the service. There was nothing they could say that didn't sound like impersonal funeral bullshit. They let Trevor have his alone time with Jeremy at the end, and Trevor was thankful as he approached the casket. He stood silently beside it for a good thirty seconds, willing Jeremy's lifeless body to be, well, alive again.

It didn't.

“I miss you.” Trevor started finally. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, he hadn't attended a funeral since he was a kid, and even then they treated him like he didn't know what was going on, keeping him away from the caskets and away from others. “I miss you so god damned much.” Trevor held back tears for what felt like the umpteenth time today.

“Gavin told me, about what you were going to do.” Gavin had approached Trevor a day after Jeremy's death, red eyed and stuttering. He stumbled out how Jeremy had planned to propose to Trevor on their anniversary, and how so sorry he was that this had to happen. Trevor felt destroyed. “I wouldn't even had hesitated saying yes. You know how much I love you.” Trevor's fingers runs along the side of the casket. “I'm proud of you. I know how much commitment scared you after what happened, but you managed to let all these people into your life and I'm pretty sure you were happy because of it.” Trevor let's out a sigh. “It's a shame that you were one of the first to go.

“I fucking love you, Jeremy.” Trevor can't stop the tear that comes, silently swearing when it does. “I never will stop. I love you and God dammit, why can't you be alive?” Trevor wipes his face to try to dry the wetness. “Please… I miss you.”

The funeral ended with explosives in the desert, “to end it with a bang, like all my boys deserve” Geoff stated. Trevor forced himself to stay afterwards, and everyone could tell that he didn't want to be there. They ended it fairly short, and Trevor went home to cry in Jeremy's pillow

The next day, Trevor was back at it again, forcing his feelings down and a smile on his face. No one questioned Trevor's coping method- everyone was different -except for Caleb, who questioned Trevor's mental health constantly, for good reason, though. Trevor always was fine, however, depending on your definition of fine.

It was on a stupid impulse that he wouldn't regret in a thousand years that he got a tattoo. A simple ‘876 + 1’ in a simple font, written on his inner wrist, small enough to go unnoticed. It wasn't extravagant by any means, but that's what he liked about it. It reminded him of Jeremy, always a part of his life most people wouldn't know of, quiet about their love while Trevor would yell it to the heavens. Trevor also loved how personal it was, no outsider would know what it would mean.

“I love you, my little J.” Trevor whispered two weeks later as he carefully traced the numbers with his forefinger. His tattoo was fully healed now, and he genuinely smiled for the first time since Jeremy's death. “I always will.”

It's been three months since Jeremy died, and Trevor was strapped to a god damned chair in some unmarked warehouse. He was littered with bruises and cuts, but Trevor didn't mind, he had a birth defect that made it impossible to feel physical pain, so it was just a test of endurance from his captors. They would ask questions, Trevor wouldn't answer, looking bored out of his mind, they would dig a knife in him somewhere, and Trevor would be sarcastic about it.

“Oh wow, that almost hurt that time.” Trevor said, staring unamused at the knife tearing his skin. They always got furious when Trevor didn't react, not even hitching a breath or flinching away. Part of the satisfaction comes from the reaction, and Trevor didn't even bat an eye.

“Tell me where your safehouses are!” Trevor's captor yells.

“Do I look like someone who participates in heists?” Trevor asked incredulously. The man throws his hands up in response and leaves the room. Trevor scoffs in the silence. It's something close to half an hour before he comes back, and Trevor watches as he approaches the chair, giving Trevor a look over before settling on his tattoo, just above the bindings.

“Eight hundred six plus one.” The man mumbles, “What, forgot how to do simple math?”

“Oh yes, how original.” Trevor replies.

“How about you tell me where your safehouses are, or I'll make this tattoo illegible.” The man threatens.

Trevor's reaction is instant. “Touch it and you're fucking dead.” He growls, and the man takes out his knife and moves to the tattoo, but he forgets that Trevor still has access to his hand. Trevor grabs the knife out of the man's hand once he gets close enough, flipping it in his hand and slashing the man’s hand open. He yells and staggers back defensively, holding his hand. “Don't you fucking dare try to pull that shit with me, or I will make sure your last moments of life are the most painful in existence.” Trevor says, and the man looks at him before making a run for it. Coward.

Trevor cuts his binds with the knife and stumbles his way out of the warehouse, vaguely aware of how much blood he lost. He finds his phone on an empty crate, screen cracked. He sighs and turns it on. Twelve missed calls from various crew members, and Trevor realized how bad this looked. It certainly was on the opposite side of the bad scale from torture, if you get the picture. Trevor calls Kdin, only slightly surprised when the answer was immediately, and gets bombarded with three different ‘where are you’s.

“I'm in a warehouse, I got kidnapped.” Trevor answers, hating how lightheaded he was beginning to feel. “By the pier.”

“Any critical injuries?” Kdin asks over noises in the background.

“Lost a lot of blood. Losing, actually.” Trevor says, closing his eyes and leaning against the crate. He probably should be in immense pain right now.

“Lie down and keep your phone on.” Kdin orders. “Be safe, please. We can't lose you both.” Trevor didn't hear the last part, sliding down the crate side and setting his phone beside him. He rubbed his wrist absently, his thumb running over the ink that contrasted with his pale skin.

“I love you, Jeremy.” Trevor mumbles before he passes out from blood loss.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to kudos, comment, and boomark below.
> 
> I am never bothered by comments.
> 
> Leave a request and I will most likely write it.


End file.
